


Tomorrow You’ll Be Gone

by Fairycub



Category: CHASM (band), One Direction (Band)
Genre: 4000 words of Harry and Mitch being oblivious, I wrote this stoned at 3am, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-12 20:23:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15348000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fairycub/pseuds/Fairycub
Summary: Tour was over, and Mitch was going home, and Harry knew exactly how he felt about that.I’m bad at summaries and I was stoned when I wrote this so mistakes will be present





	Tomorrow You’ll Be Gone

Tour was over. Just like that, the tour that had consumed every waking moment of their lives had ended, not without a bang, and all of a sudden everything was quiet and calm and none of them really knew what to do with themselves.  
  
Adam had left almost the second the show had finished, he’d pre-packed his things earlier and brought them to the show with him, and practically ran to the the airport, the only sign he’d remembered them was a text to them all thanking them and sending love, and an Instagram post. None of them blamed him. He’d been missing his family worse than any of them, and he had young kids to get back to, so they knew he hadn’t meant anything by it. Then Clare and Sarah had somehow made their way back to the hotel, after lots of hugging and a bit of crying, for their final night before they flew home in the morning. And then there was Mitch, who liked to take his time doing things and wasn’t about to rush anywhere if he didn’t have to, and Harry, who looked like his heart had fallen out and that he was about to start crying again because he really, really didn’t want tour to be over.  
  
Once Mitch was finished collecting up his things and looking in awe at the thousands of empty seats and trying to stay out of the way of the crew packing up the stage, he decided he should probably be on his way too, it was late and although he was still hopped up on adrenaline, he was starting to feel tired. Tour had taken its toll on him and he almost couldn’t wait to get home and curl up in bed and sleep for about a month. Only almost though, because as he carried his bag through the arena his eyes fell on Harry, and he was sitting in an empty seat surrounded by lots of other empty seats and nothing else, looking like he was broken, and Mitch felt like he was going to break down because he’d never seen a sadder sight.  
  
“Haz.” he said softly, sitting beside him. He was shaken out of his thoughts, his eyes drifting up to Mitch, barely managing to force a smile.  
“You going home?” Harry asked, trying, and failing, to force his voice to sound like he hadn’t just swallowed a mouthful of cement.  
“I mean, not just yet. I was gonna wait for you.” Mitch lied, because he thought Harry would already be back at his big house or out at an afterparty or _anywhere else_ , not sitting by himself looking like he’d been punched in the balls.  
  
“Oh. I’m just kind of…” Harry waved his hand around vaguely. He didn’t really know what he was doing, he just didn’t want to leave. Not yet. He wasn’t ready for tour to be over. He wasn’t ready to leave behind the buzz of performing every night. Sleeping on the tour bus bunks and always waking up with a sore back. Taking turns making breakfast and washing dishes and telling stupid stories after a show when none of them could sleep yet. Always being surrounded by his friends and never having a dull moment even if it meant he was exhausted all the time. It was worth it, and he didn’t want to let it go because it meant he’d be going back to a big empty house and staying in bed until 12 every day with nothing to do and ignoring texts from his family asking when he was coming home and dodging calls from his manager asking if he wanted to do this and that because _no he just wanted to sleep and forget where he was until his next tour._  
  
“You can’t stay here all night dude.” Mitch put a big hand on his shoulder, and he could nearly physically feel the pain that was almost radiating from Harry, and Harry almost threw up his heart because _fuck Mitch was going home too._ Even though they lived in the same city, and he could see him whenever he wanted to, he wouldn’t. Everyone said they’d stay in touch and hugged and cried but in a weeks time Harry would be looking at three unanswered texts and wondering if it was too needy to send a fourth. And he didn’t want Mitch to go, because Mitch had big, warm hands, but he was always too cold, borrowing Harry’s jackets all the time, and his bunk was the one below Harry’s, and he didn’t pack his own shampoo or soap for tour because _“hotels give that shit away for free, dude,”_ but his hair always smelled nice anyway, and he never broke a hug first or moved when Harry leaned on him or looked uncomfortable when Harry pretended to be asleep in his lap. And none of that shit meant anything or made any sense and Harry didn’t know why it was all he could think about. Well, he did know, in the back of his mind, but he didn’t want to think about it too much. He always complicated things when he started thinking too hard.  
  
“Yeah I can.” Harry mumbled, and he hadn’t meant to sound so petulant, and it didn’t matter that he did, because Mitch snorted and stood up.  
“You gotta get your stuff man.” he prompted. Harry could only think about how much he hated it when Mitch called him ‘man’ or ‘dude’ because it was so obviously something that _just friends_ called each other, and yes of course he wanted to be Mitch’s friend, and they _were_ best friends, but there were about a million things he’d rather Mitch call him.  
  
“I know.” Harry stood up and stretched. His joints popped, that third rendition of Kiwi had really taken it out of him, and he _needed_ to go home and sleep but he didn’t want to because when he woke up it would just be the day after. Day 1. The first day of no tour, and no friends, and no Mitch. The first day of being back in the hole.  
“Can we go get a drink?” He asked. Mitch smiled and nodded. He wanted to go home and sleep, but he wasn’t about to turn down a final drink with his friends.  
“Should I call the girls?” Mitch asked, getting out his phone. Harry’s heart sank to the pit of his stomach, and his lips formed what he hoped might have been a smile, but probably wasn’t, and he shook his head. He hadn’t meant ‘we’ as in the band, he’d meant ‘we’ as in Harry and Mitch, the two of them, alone. But Mitch thought he’d meant the band, which he should have expected, really. Why would he be asking Mitch out for drinks on his own? That was just weird.  
  
“I’ll text them, they might be asleep though.” Harry said, taking his almost dead phone out of his pocket and putting his phone on airplane mode before texting Clare and Sarah to come out so it wasn’t a lie, he _had_ texted them, and then put his phone on do not disturb, like anybody would be able to contact him anyway.  
“Ok. Come on. We really gotta get out of here. Empty theatres creep me out.” Mitch smiled, and suddenly his hand was in the middle of his back steering Harry backstage, and Harry walked as slowly as he could without it being obvious that he was savouring it.  
  
It didn’t take long for Harry to get changed into not high heeled shoes and a white t shirt and jeans that were too big for him, because that was all he’d brought, he wasn’t great at planning ahead, packing his things up. He never brought much with him, and what he did bring he didn’t really spread out. He had one last good look at everything as he walked out, Mitch waiting patiently for him, and he got into the back seat of a waiting car. Mitch followed his lead. Harry asked for their things to be dropped off at his house after being taken to one of his favourite, not so fancy bars. It wasn’t in such a good neighbourhood, but he hardly ever got recognised there and the drinks were cheap. Not that it mattered.  
  
He wanted to sit in the middle seat - he didn’t want to acknowledge _why_ he wanted to sit there - but there were only two of them in the back, and two perfectly good window seats, so he did what any normal adult would do and buckled up and leaned his head on the window.  
“Are you sure you want to go out?” Mitch asked. Harry almost didn’t hear him. His voice was always so soft and quiet and Harry didn’t ever want to go a day without hearing it again.  
“Mm… yeah.” he mumbled, and Mitch raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything about it.  
  
Harry thanked his driver when he dropped them outside the bar, and Mitch did the same, folding his arms across his chest tightly even though it was the middle of summer and the asphalt was still warm under their feet.  
“Are you seriously cold?” Harry asked, grinning up at him because he was so _fucking endearing_ that it was almost disgusting.  
“No… not ‘cold’, just… chilly.” he said slowly, stepping into the bar, and it was warmer inside and he saw Mitch breathe a little sigh of relief that made Harry smile. The usual drunks were there and the bartender recognised Harry even though he hadn’t been there in months and poured him a drink before he sat down.  
“The same for your friend?” the bartender asked. Harry had forgotten her name, and felt rude to ask even though he knew she wouldn’t have cared.  
“Uh…” Harry looked at Mitch, who shrugged and seemed more interested with the music video that was playing on the small TV mounted on the wall.  
“He’ll have the same.” Harry nodded, resting his chin on his palm. He wanted to talk to Mitch, about anything really, but he seemed tired and not really that interested and Harry was starting to regret going out at all. But then just as Harry was about to slam back his drink and tell Mitch he didn’t feel well and wanted to go home, Mitch turned to face Harry and picked up his drink.  
“And what have you chosen for me tonight?” Mitch asked with a smile. Harry shrugged, because he really didn’t know. Mitch sniffed it with mock suspicion.  
“Roofies?” He joked, having a sip, and Harry barked out a laugh that was far too loud, and Mitch’s relaxed smile stayed too relaxed and Harry knocked back the rest of his drink in two mouthfuls. Mitch noticed, raising his eyebrows.  
“So, you’re getting wasted then?” he asked, and Harry shrugged. He wouldn’t if Mitch gave him a reason not to, but for now he had an indefinite period of nothingness ahead of him that he wanted to forget about.  
“As long as you don’t pass out in your own puke.” Mitch commented, and Harry wondered if he ever had, because there were a lot of nights out he couldn’t remember, and he desperately hoped he hadn’t embarrassed himself in front of Mitch before.   
He didn’t want to sit at the bar anymore. His back hurt and he was tired, and there were very comfy looking couches over by the wall. Harry ordered two more drinks, both for himself, Mitch was still going on his first, and got up without explanation, snagging himself a small table and a two seater of questionable cleanliness, collapsing back onto it. Mitch followed him, sitting back into his seat beside Harry. The springs were all busted and the cushion was dipping on one side and it made Mitch lean into Harry, and he stopped breathing for a second.  
  
“Geez…” Mitch muttered under his breath as he adjusted himself. The couch was a lot further down than he’d thought, it sagged even further when he sat, and Mitch thought he might as well be sitting on the floor. He didn’t really care though, because when he looked Harry up and down he actually looked happy for the first time since the show had ended.  
“Are they both for you?” he laughed, pointing at his drinks.  
“Yeah, why, you want one?” Harry asked, already halfway through his second.  
“Because you can’t have one they’re mine.” he had a straight face, but Mitch knew he was joking, and he poked his tongue out. Harry was already feeling lightheaded, and he wasn’t sure if it was because the bartender always gave him a double even though he never asked for one or if it was because Mitch was right there pressed up against him and he’d poked his tongue out about an inch from his face and it was just the two of them and nobody else in the world existed.  
  
“I don’t want tour to be over.” Harry said suddenly, and it was definitely the booze kicking in because his emotions were bubbling over and he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.  
“Me neither. I mean I’m so excited to sleep in like, an actual bed, but…” Mitch trailed off because Harry looked like he was about to do… something. Cry or throw up or kiss him, and he didn’t know which one it was but he knew which one he hoped it was.  
“I don’t want you to go home.” Harry said. His voice was raspy and quiet and Mitch wasn’t sure he was supposed to have heard it.  
“I don’t live far Haz.” he reminded him with a smile, wrapping his arm around Harry’s shoulders, and Harry fell against his chest like a ragdoll.  
“I know.” it was barely a whisper and it didn’t sound like he felt any better.  
“You can see me whenever you want. It’s not like I’ve got a whole lot going on myself.” Mitch assured him. Both Harry’s drinks, and the rest of Mitch’s were somehow empty now, and Mitch had barely had a sip.  
  
“Why can’t you just stay?” Harry pouted like a child. Mitch looked at him, wondering what to say to him, because why hadn’t they ever just said the things they were supposed to say to each other, even when they were both drunk and talking shit on a Saturday night or at three am after a show when everyone else had already gone to bed and it was just the two of them up on the sofa curled up together whispering so they wouldn’t wake anyone up. Harry was worrying his bottom lip between his fingers, pulling at it. It was pink and wet between his fingers and Mitch could see teeth marks from where he’d been biting it and he wanted to tell him to stop but he never did. Harry reached his other hand up to run through Mitch’s hair, he was growing it out, and looked up to him with too-big eyes.  
  
“Can’t you stay?”  
  
Mitch wanted to say yes, and he didn’t know why he didn’t just _say it already._ Yes he did. It was because he was a grown up with grown up responsibilities and his own house, and shit to do. But that was a lie because he didn’t, and he’d had his utilities turned off before he’d gone on tour and he’d be going home to an empty house and an empty schedule too. He stayed quiet, and Harry’s eyes stayed on him for a second too long, searching his face for any sign that Mitch might have actually wanted to stay with him, but he mustn’t have found what he was looking for because his hand dropped out of Mitch’s hair and back into his own lap, and his eyes fell onto the three empty glasses sitting on the table.  
  
“I want to go to bed.” Harry said. Mitch had blown his chance now, and he felt a bit sick.  
“I can take you home if you want.” Mitch said, because he looked a bit drunk, and he knew he was a bit drunk, and good friends made sure their friends got home safe.  
“You don’t have to. Be back.” Harry said, getting up off the couch after a second of struggle, and he didn’t stagger to the restroom, but he wasn’t walking in a straight line either. Mitch rested his elbows on his knees and his head in his palms because he blew it, and Harry had begged him to come home with him for good and Mitch had never kissed him even though he’d had a million chances.  
  
Harry didn’t come out of the bathroom for a while. Mitch was worried he was feeling sick, that was all, and he went in to check on him. There was only one stall and it wasn’t locked but the door was closed.  
“Harry? You still in here?” Mitch called out. He didn’t get a response, but he knew exactly where Harry was. He almost didn’t want to open the door because he also knew exactly what he was going to see when he did, but he opened it anyway because that was what good friends did.  
“Haz…” He sighed, stepping into the stall and closing the small space between them to shut the door behind him.  
“What are you doing?” He asked, not meaning to sound so exasperated. Harry looked up at him, eyelashes stuck together with tears, choking back a sob.  
“Nothing…” he managed to squeak out. Mitch almost laughed because it was exactly the dumb answer he’d expected. But he didn’t laugh, because that would be mean and he didn’t want to be mean to Harry.  
“Yeah it really looks like nothing. Did you even pee?” He asked with a small smile, trying to cheer Harry up even though it felt like he’d swallowed lead because he knew the reason Harry was crying.  
“Yeah…” he squeaked out, and Mitch blew air out of his nose with a smile and tore off a few sheets of toilet paper and handed it to Harry to blow his nose because he was sniffing a lot.  
“Yeah? Ok. Come on, I’ll take you home.” Mitch said, and he didn’t call him dude or man or buddy, and Harry noticed. He got a surge of courage but he didn’t do anything useful with it. He just blew his nose and flushed the toilet and went to splash some water on his face. Mitch left the bathroom and went back to the bar to get him a bottle of water. Harry didn’t really want to go home, but if it meant maybe Mitch would come inside and wait until he got into bed then he would. Maybe he could convince him that he was feeling sick and that’s why Mitch needed to stay overnight and sleep in the same bed as him with his chest pressed to Harry’s back.  
  
Mitch brought him a bottle of water, convincing Harry to drink a little bit, though he insisted he didn’t need to and he wasn’t even drunk. The bartender waved them goodnight, and Harry’s phone was dead so Mitch had to get them an Uber. Harry insisted he’d pay for it and Mitch rolled his eyes and told him it was fine. Harry sat on the curb and hugged his knees when he saw the Uber was ten minutes away. Mitch sat beside him and put his arm around him.  
“Now who’s cold?” Mitch smiled, and Harry forced a laugh, but the asphalt wasn’t warm anymore and it was probably too early in the morning to be awake let alone outside and he had every reason to be cold. Mitch had no right to make that joke, Harry thought, and he realised he was being bitter but he didn’t care.  
  
In the Uber, Harry bypassed the window seat for the middle seat because he wasn’t a normal adult anymore and he didn’t have to be reasonable. He was a bit drunk and a bit cold and very emotional and he wanted to sit beside Mitch, so he did. He leaned heavily on him, staring out the window, watching the world go by and pretending he was a bit more drunk than he was. Mitch snaked his arm around Harry’s waist, a bit lower than he normally would, resting his chin on the top of his head. The driver eyed them in the rearview mirror, only because Harry looked beyond buzzed and he was worried about his upholstery.  
“You ok?” Mitch whispered into Harry’s hair, giving his waist a little squeeze, and Harry got shivers. He shrugged, and words came tumbling out of his mouth before he could shut it.  
“You’ve never kissed me…” he mumbled. “Even though you want to and I want to you’ve never kissed me.”  
He felt Mitch go stiff but he didn’t move his arm away or push Harry away or yell or do anything Harry was worried he might do.  
“Can we talk about it inside?” Mitch asked quietly, and Harry nodded because the last thing he wanted to do was make Mitch uncomfortable even though he was dying for an answer. They didn’t move until the driver pulled up outside Harry’s place, and they both got out and silently walked to the door. Harry didn’t know what to do, so he stepped over the threshold and waited for Mitch to do the same, closing the door behind them.  
  
“We’re inside.” he said. He hadn’t meant for it to sound so demanding.  
“Yeah.” Mitch breathed and looked around even though he’d been to Harry’s countless times and had seen everything before. Harry sat on his favourite sofa and patted the seat beside him. Mitch sat down slowly. Harry was worried he’d fucked everything up.  
“So…” Mitch broke the silence first, which was a rare occurrence so something must have been different.  
“I… I just want to know why you’ve never…” Harry stumbled over his words. Mitch shrugged and crossed, then uncrossed his legs and looked everywhere except Harry’s face.  
“You wanted to as well yeah?” Harry asked, and Mitch nodded and now he was the one that looked like he was going to cry.  
“Didn’t know how to.” he said with a lump in his throat. Harry let his head drop onto Mitch’s shoulder, gently taking Mitch’s hand in his own and running his thumb over the backs of his knuckles.  
“Did we fuck it all up?” Harry asked. He felt like he was drowning. He didn’t want to know the answer to that question because he didn’t even know what the question meant but at the same time he did and he knew Mitch did too.  
“I don’t know. You’re drunk.” Mitch said pointedly, and Harry nodded.  
  
“Doesn’t mean I haven’t wanted to, like, before. When I’m not drunk.” Harry said, and he tilted his chin up to look at Mitch and licked his lips slightly. Mitch just looked at him and waited for him to make the first move because there was no way in hell he was brave enough to do it himself. Harry sat up a little bit and faced Mitch a bit more, and Mitch almost backed off. Holy shit, this was happening, and it was three-something in the morning, and he’d been wanting to do this, something like this anyway, for months and months and now it was happening he was too afraid to move. Harry tilted his head to the side and leaned forward, keeping his eyes open which almost made Mitch laugh. He didn’t. He just stared at Harry’s pink-red lips as he moved toward Mitch, wondering if it hurt when he bit them so hard it left a mark, but then he didn’t think of anything at all because his eyes closed on instinct and Harry’s lips were on his own. They were soft and wet and he smelled like alcohol and a little bit like mint from all the damn gum he never stopped chewing, and their noses bumped a little so Harry gently placed a hand on the side of his face to guide him a little. He stroked Mitch’s cheekbone with his thumb a little, and Mitch couldn’t help rolling his eyes a bit beneath his eyelids, _of course Harry was this good at kissing. Fucking over achiever._  
  
When it was finally over, not that either of them wanted it to be over, Harry let himself tip forward a little bit, his forehead resting on Mitch’s collarbone, closing his eyes. Neither of them said anything for a second.  
“Yeah, that was good… I am drunk though.” Harry mumbled into Mitch’s shirt. Mitch laughed, _yeah, duh,_ and placed a kiss to the top of his head.  
“Mm.” he hummed, letting his hand rest at the top of his shoulder blades, thumb smoothing the hairs on the back of his neck.  
  
“You need to go to bed.”  
  
Harry nodded into Mitch’s chest, not wanting to move. He wanted to drink in every second of this that he could. He’d missed it so badly even though he’d never had it before.  
“I know. Will you help me?” Harry asked, and Mitch couldn’t stop himself from grinning. Of course he would, he couldn’t think of anything else he’d rather do. Everything that he’d ever wanted had just happened and was still happening and Harry was here asking dumb ass questions like that. He practically scooped him up off the couch, helping him upstairs as Harry leaned heavily on him, mumbling something tiredly into Mitch’s shoulder. Mitch didn’t ask what he was saying, he figured it was strictly between Harry and his shoulder. He helped him get changed for bed, folding his arms triumphantly once he was finally comfortable in bed.  
  
“All good?” Mitch asked. Harry shrugged and lay on his side, watching him. By the time he’d asked the question Mitch was already stripped down to a boxers and his t shirt, slipping under the covers and fitting his hips to Harry’s like they’d done it a thousand times before, slipping his arm under his head and making sure the covers were pulled up to Harry’s chin. Harry shut his eyes, but he couldn’t shake the feeling it was all too good to be true.  
“You’re staying, right?” he asked, almost sounding nervous, as though he was scared that he’d imagined the entire night. Mitch rolled his eyes at the question, kissing the back of his head and tucking his other arm securely around his waist. He was there in bed, and Harry was there in bed too, and they were both safe and together the way they’d wanted to be for far too long, everything had changed but nothing had changed at all. Harry was still asking stupid questions and Mitch was still giving sarcastic responses and everything was where it was meant to be, and he smiled as he spoke with heavy eyelids.  
  
“You know, I thought you’d never ask.”

**Author's Note:**

> So I handwrite all my fics and have a stockpile of Hitch fics in a bunch of journals let me know if you want me to type any more up. Also if you have any requests for CHASM fics because I’m super into writing rn because tours over


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